


Arranged

by AngelicSinner (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1836, Bottom Harry, Crossdressing Harry, Crossdressing Louis, Depression, Diary, Epistolary, M/M, Prince Harry - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Louis, Victorian era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-13 17:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12988878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AngelicSinner
Summary: A series of documents about a young prince who struggles to get out of an arranged marriage, while slowly finding out the ruthless killer of seven aristocratics





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While arranged is hopefully a good book, there's a few things to clear up before you move on.
> 
> – The story is written in beats, meaning that the mood/ topic will change.
> 
> – There will be more then ONE diary entry in a chapter, like I said before. You'll know if it's a new entry when there's an indentation and an little symbol (—).
> 
> – Harry is 16, Louis is 19
> 
> – The story is NOT historically accurate in values, but it is an accurate representation in Victorian life.
> 
> – The story is set in London, England 1836.
> 
> – Best way to read, is to imagine yourself as an historian who just uncovered these various files.
> 
> – Various mentions of depression, starvation, suicidal thoughts.
> 
> – Strong language 
> 
> – Harry bottoms in this story, but there mentions of Louis bottoming w/ other men.
> 
> – Louis cross dresses in this story.
> 
> – Various O.Cs are mention; the only people from One Direction in here is Louis and Harry.  
> – Harry comes from a royal family, Louis comes from a nobleman.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

       I liked being hurt.  
Mentally, I should clarify. T'was never a know reason why this wretched feeling excited me; it just did. This though does not make me mad; nor belittle my given rights; it simply perplexed me; sometimes taunted me.

If I was deluded, it completely blinded me; using my emotions like a child's toy; guiding me into darkness, while persuading me that this was the light.

Silver-tongued wickedness is something my mother warned me about; never thought I let its demon control me.

                                  —

          T'was a mellow dawn, when the letter came. The orange sun rose over the horizon, and a soft breeze shifted throughout England. The window seat was my favorite place; for the charming atmosphere made me somewhat calm.

This time, my scarlet rose was held between my fingers; plush petals fell delicately in my lap as I picked them off the stem one by one.

Mother was the one who beared the message. She'd warped into my room, clenching the wax sealed envelope; dare I say, I almost tore my finger off when she bursted in; fortunately, it was just a small cut the thorn made. She quickly apologizes; taking a rag she swiftly dampen its silk then wrapped it over my wounded finger.

I asked, "why must you come in so radically?" She smiled a shining smile. My mother was a beautiful woman indeed; she had an oddly angelic look to her; her lips were naturally pink and golden ropes of hair framed her round face.

She was short, yet petite; and a prominent jawline made her beauty seem even more beautiful. She thrusted over the envelope from earlier; "be thankful I'm the one giving this." Mother declared. Something told me that little joke had more meaning to it then a breath of relief.

I didn't want to open it. But with my mother staring me down like a dog, I had no choice not too.

Oh how hesitant I was opening it. It was as if the message inside was gonna blow up in my face.

That day, ladies and gentlemen, was the first day I burned a royal decree to the depths of hell.

As it burned to ash, my mother tried to console me; saying things along the lines: 'it's gonna be okay' and ' you mustn't dwell on it.' Anger was boiling inside me. "How can you let them do this? Why would you let them court me with some french prostitute?" Mother slapped me hard, her heavy breaths surfaced the air.

" you shall not disown him in my presence."

That day was a mellow mid-dawn. The orange sun was yellow now, and the breeze subsided over England; crimson petals was scattered everywhere, and I wasn't in the mood to pick them up; for I was too busy crying in my mother's chest, because I was forced to marry.

                                    —

          Myriads of feelings washed over me today. It's been three weeks since the dreaded letter came. Today, I got the news that King William IV, my father, should die within a few months; Queen Penelope III, Mother, will reside to her palace in the Netherlands when I become ruler.

Gloom was my emotion this morning. Servants were rushing here and there to get the palace spick and span. My valet urged me awake, muttering under her breath: "lazy boy!"

"You must do this, prince. 'Tis royal duty." Elizabeth, my valet, said. She had dressed me in shades of red, black, and gold; parted and combed my reckless curls.

"But why shall I need to be picked for? Why couldn't I get a court?" I still haven't gotten over this. It confused me; why can't I get at least a choice?

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures, sir." And with that I stayed quiet the rest of the morning.

T'was an eventful evening. As soon as the doors opened, the meeting was commenced; Louis–my said mate– came in an extravagant way. My cheek must've glowed a shining red when I saw the darkly crimson dress wrapped around him. The older obviously didn't care for the servants glares; he stood by his mother and brother with the utmost confidence.

Louis looked like a ethereal whore at his finest; ethereal meaning his cherubic features still paints his face; whore meaning his succubus like demeanor molds him into some sort of walking sex god.

In age, Louis is 3 years older than I am; In a relationship, I do believe I'm the dominant one; what lead me to such conclusion was blatantly obvious at this point.

Furthermore, the meeting was a tad boring; all we truly did was introduce ourselves, then let our parents do the talking. It was mostly uncomfortable when Jules–Louis' brother–kept an emotionless eye on me.

Oh, when they announced it was time for our 'first meal,' I sighed in relief! My legs were almost half dead standing up for such time.

Me and Louis only talk once throughout the greeting day.

We were moving towards the grand dining room when I stepped on his expensive silk train.

"Don't you know any manners? Didn't your mother teach you to never touch the art?" He belittled.

Egad! I still remember that deceitful smirk of his.

Anger and annoyance was my emotion at the end of the day.

Anger, annoyance, and Louis.

                                  —  
                
              Dolores was more social then I thought; from the outside she seemed more introverted.

Her accent wasn't as strong unlike her two sons; she could decipher the words she said, and knew what most words meant.

Like her sons, she wore an arrangement of dark shades of corsets, petticoats, and hats. You'll most likely she her hair slicked back, sometimes with a feathered hat.

Her beauty seemed endless; not even the permanent wrinkles could take it away.

Her eyes, bluer than the bluest sea, penetrated you; making you feel like she could hear every thought you had.

Louis carried some of her traits. Poor Jules carried none.

Jules was as plain as the clouds in the sky and the dirt below. His eyes were a dull blue; no such life was in them. His hair was a disgusting brown color; it was just a curly flop of mess on his head. It must be the reason why he wore such expensive silks and satins; to take your eyes off his peasant like appearance.

It was the second (and a half) day since the Tomlinson’s came. We had breakfast together; we'd chewed delightly on sausages, and buttered scones; I'd glanced over at Louis. His plate was still full; his sausages was half bitten and his scone was left unbothered.

My blistering glare to the plate must of gone on too long, for he'd spoken to me for the second time.

"Greedy boy! You must be so into your viands that you yearn for more. Must there be people less fortunate than you? While they're wondering when their next meal is, you're over here delightly stuffing your cheeks like a chipmunk before hibernation. I won't be surprise when you get bigger than Benjamin Franklin on Christmas Day." He spat.

I knew I shouldn't let his words effect me; but it must of did, for my appetite subsided after that.

Long after the breakfast hour, I was set off to do whatever I pleased.

The courtyard was the place I set out to. Todays, weather was exceptionally perfect. The summer breeze brushes along the branches; flora fragrances was more prominent and the heavens above shined bright lights amongst us.

Instead of a half picked rose, I had a book in hand.

Murmurs took me out of my reading. I looked up and saw Dolores and Louis, standing on the stone balcony; talking secretly.

Dolores took a glance at me; her eyes were duller, no such life was in her eyes unlike before; it was as if another entity entered her; carrying thous seven sins on its back. She turned around, whispered a message in her son's ear, then left.

Me and Louis made eye contact; he didn't say anything; not even his famous scolding wasn't contorted out. He just looked at me and left.

Today's feeling was nervousness. Why so?

Cause, Louis reign was coming; and all hell was about to break loose.


	2. Chapter 2

        Fast.  
It's been only a week and we'd already have a wedding planner; everything seems to be moving in a panicked blur to me. One moment I'm looking at ivory designs, the next at various expensive diamond cluster rings.

Within these days, my anxiety started to lurk out of its dark corners; seeing the bright light they longed for. Mother, and Elizabeth had found me multiple times, curled up with short breaths and fast tears streaking my cold cheeks.

I tried to seek medical help, but all I have gotten was ''tis stress; just take deep breaths, and you should be good as you were before."

I have come to the conclusion that such deep breaths, does not work as efficiently as told. I sulk in the depths of my despair.

And my other 'family' is no where near helping it.

Ever since I saw them on the balcony; I started becoming more aware about the Tomlinson's. I have figured out how suspicious they really were.

Such as Jules; he's been a tad quiet since the arrival. He'd only talked, when asked a question.

I have felt his eyes on me countless times; but usually I tell myself I'm just being paranoid.

Or how, Louis had developed an affair with his valet. I can tell he's been pouring love lies on his ear; the gentlemen have been staring at him with a need of lust, and a heart on his sleeve.

Poor guy, he's falling in a bear trap and doesn't even know it.

Last time I saw them, was when they had kissed. Louis had sealed his prey.

Oh, but Dolores is the one that frightened me the most. She was like the puppet master out of the two.

She'd pulled her social strings in front of others; swooning them with her harp-like tone.

Yet, when the doors are closed, she becomes a soulless, bitter human being.

Everytime I passed her, she looks down at me.

I should be obligated to say the least, that the Tomlinson's are not whom they say they are. Whom they may be? The world may never know.

                            —

   I visited my father today.  
He'd looked worse then I last saw him. Yesterday, the doctors granted me a wish for mother and I to see him. He was awfully pale; his lips was a cracked white and a cough was mustered out every few minutes

As soon as mother drew away from his bed, I'd went towards him.

I'd crouched down by his bed side; my hand took his weak one. I was on the verge of tears, when he'd turned around.

My mouth, parched; my throat, it felt like a mound of sand was swallowed.

I'd had cried out to him! Asking him if he can hear me.

He'd turned around; and smiled weakly.

"Of course I can." His voice was horrid; it was raspy and gritty.

"Oh father! I hate what's have been happening! I'm not ready; father I'm not!" Tears were spilling over then; the salty droplets were running down my cheeks.

He'd quieted down my cries. " White rose; oh, please don't cry W.R. It will be alright." Father always tries his best to comfort me; no matter how sick he was.

I asked: 'what if I can't do this?' He told me: "what if you can? You mustn't put yourself down; think positive W.R. Keep moving forward."

I had smiled down at him, a few tears still escaping. For the rest of my time, I'd stayed with him.

                           —

    Mother would've scolded me for eavesdropping. But i wasn't trying too!

Today was a rainy summer day; children must've sat by the fire today, and played with their toys. The hour struck thirteen; and I'd enter into the library. I'd been searching for a book, when out the corner of my eye, I had saw Louis. He'd looked different than the other times. He was wearing more muscular clothing; boyish features were popping out more.

He was writing something when I started to make my way towards him; "Never thought I'd would see you without your dresses." I announced, gallantly.

"If you came here to stare at me and nag about my personal choices; you mustn't talk to me; I have more important things to do then to play your childish games."

And must I say, I was deeply offended by his statement. I do not play such games like he does. Egad!

"Why must you be so rude?" I'd was sitting beside him, when he'd stopped writing. It looked like a poem, or some sort of journal.

I couldn't read it, for it was all in french. Suddenly, the journal closed forcefully; and a big smack echoed throughout the room. His hand latched onto my jaw; he had pulled forward; my book tumbled off the table.

"It is rude to not listen to people when they are talking to you; since you're obviously too nosy for your own good, it be in your best interest to stay out of my goddamn way, _oui_?

I should've fought back; to tell him he had no right to put his hands on me. Yet, all I did was kept my gloves hands between my thighs and mustered out a shaky 'yes.'

So, do believe me when I tell you, I didn't mean to eavesdrop. It's just their sex hazed conversation—allured me.

Moans and grunts were being muffled, because of the door; but soon, small talk could be makes out.

"...but what about the prince, my love? what a about him?" A wet smack of lips processed after that.

Louis then began to answer. "Oh bébé, me and the prince can't even bear to stand in a room together; at least, after we throw him aside, it'll just be you and moi."

I still remember the louder smack of meatier flesh, and those fake giggles.

I told myself I couldn't listen to such talk anymore. That's when I quickly dash towards my room. This arranged marriage shall not happen; if I want to better myself; I'd need to put this to an end.


	3. Chapter 3

I was about six years old when I first met   
Louis.

I was remember my mother rushing me awake; she was helping my valet at the time. As soon as I was finished, she'd paced her walking at a fast speed, and took us both through the main hall.

Like a curious child, I had asked her questions.

"Mother, what's going on?"

"Who's coming?"

"Mother?"

She'd silenced my pleads as we hit the throne room; I was put on her lap rather than in my chair.

She'd caressed my curls, endearingly, making me lost in my thoughts of sugary desserts and how much I loved her.

To be quite honest, I may had fallen into a sleep, during this; for I vaguely remember what was going on.

Anyways, I was put on the floor as my mother and father finished talking to whom it may be.

When I gazed up, that's when I saw him. I saw a boy an age three years older than I; standing with his hands behind his back while looking back at me.

To my wits, I looked at the boy as a new friend, rather than a stranger.

Immediately, I hugged the newcomer.

Even though he stood there like statue, I still felt the warmth and his beating heart from his body.

He'd pushed me off, as soon as he could. Gos to show you, Louis never been the kindest person towards me.

The adults shooed us off; to that me and Louis ended up in the garden; I was holding his hand while I showed him to my favorite spot.

The spot had a tree sitting lonely in a meadow full of yellow roses. The roses, that just bloomed the day before, comforted the tree; mingling there citrus scents with the earthy pine.

"Y'know, I never got your name?" My knees were stained with dirt; yellow petals, strategically placed, was enveloped by my wild ringlets.

Louis, as always, scolded me for not paying attention before.

"...it's Louis, you childish fool!"

If it had been me today, I would've quickly known that Louis was a terrible person. Sadly, six year olds don't know the difference between friend and foe.

The rest of the time, seems boring to tell; it was simply I playing with the flowers, whilst Louis' just plucked them apart.

But tis not the play, or my quiet youth is the reason why I'm writing this. It's an innocent question that boggles my mind. A question asked, that was unlike Louis.

"W.R."

"Hm?"

"Why do they call you W.R.?"

"Oh! You mean mother and father? They always called me that; it's short for white rose, though I don't know why they pick such nickname? My favorite rose is red, not white."

"Oh."

"Why must you ask?"

Louis didn't answer; instead he got up, brushed off his trousers, and walked away.

  
It's been 10 years since then. But one thing haven't left my mind.

'Why must he ask?'

  
                          —

  Hues of golden light is the one who struck me up this morning.

Early dawn, was something I haven't woken up to since weeks now.

Bright sunlight stings my eyes; my vision temporarily had a groggy blur. Yet, I could make out a silhouette of a person, standing a few feet away from my bed.

A line of squinting and blinking followed; for I was trying clear my temporary blindness.

Screams was flushed out of me; bouncing from wall to wall.

He'd covered my mouth with his hand; and whispered something about how 'it's rude to scream at guest.'

Anger arises in my body; it felt like a plunder of smoke and steam flew out my body. Louis knew he was riling me; his comical glare danced across his eyes without a care!

I snapped at him; asking why he must feel to have a right to sneak into my bed chamber.

A smirk was his only response; it was like a silent way of taunting me.

Egad! I hated it! I hated it! Why must he play with my emotions! Why must he walk the same ground as me; breath the same air as me!

The last nerve in my body must've broke; because in a wink of an eye, I went to attack him.

I'd got one good scratch on him, before he slapped me.

I fell on the ground, leaving only my calves elevated on the bed.

I held my cheek; and trying to hold back tears.

As I was about to get up; Louis grabbed my hair, and dragged the rest of my body out the bed.

I tried my hardest to shake him off, but his grip was just too tight.

"Please let go! I beg mercy!" I wailed.  
He did let go; but it didn't stop him from grabbing my neck.

With each moment, he clenched his fist tighter and tighter; a few tears started to roll down my abused cheek.

"Try it again. I dare you." He had whispered; it was like venom leaking into my ear.

Tears started fall more and more; but it wasn't the tight grip around my windpipe, or even the pain that shooted through my body.

Merciful father, My deepest apologies, for I have sinned.

"You orgasmed" Louis said; now looking at my flaccid cock.

Sobs; they started filling its sounds humiliation throughout the hollow room.

His hand was no longer around my throat; he'd stood up and had flattened out his dress skirt.

"You know, if you wasn't such a pathetic, perverted person; I'd would have granted you a time of thought."

We remained eye contact, until Elizabeth burst into the room.

With that, Louis left; leaving me bare, bruised, and bawling.

  
I was informed later that morning, Louis was told to wake me up, hence why he was in my room; I also was informed that mother planned all this, for she felt like me and Louis need a special day of 'bonding'.

It was obvious to anyone, that I didn't want to spend time with that despicable human being, (if he even is one.)

It'd took Elizabeth at least half an hour, to get me composed and dressed. Mother constantly, apologize to me for such drama.

I never thought mother could annoy me, like she did today, but obviously my assumptions were false.

I'd had to hide from her, to get her of my trail.  
Soon enough, I came out of the cramped hiding place; only to plunder into Louis.

The warmth radiating from him skin, reminded me of that time nine years before.

He may look as if he's made out of coal and stone, or look like a lifeless porcelain doll; but, in that moment in time, I'm reassured that he's indeed human.

Shockingly, he did not throw me off in disgust; his arms, instead, wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer.

I was about was about to put my input on the situation, but he stopped me in mid-breath.

  
He'd leaned closer until the tip of his nose touched mines.

But of course he didn't kiss me; I believe Louis most rather die at the arms of the devil then kiss I.

He only whispered, " _putain, perdant_.", and gave me an mocking chuckle.

He pulled away, and open his palm to me.

  
"We have day, we have to fulfill; join me?"

I accepted and went with him.

  
Exhaustion and soreness. Two things I hate about days such like today.

We started with croquet; and dare I say, Louis is one tough competitor.

I never thought one game can have so much pushing and kicking. And all we are doing is moving a stick!

And oh how the heavens were hot today; I was wiping sweat off every few minutes.

  
Then lunch came and go, and I'd found myself stuck in a room with loud music and tiring dances.

So, I had sneaked out of the luxurious hall and headed towards my bed chamber.

I felt euphoria flood my body; I can finally feel the cool sheets on my skin and my eyes closing into a deep nirvana.

But, it has seems someone already beat me too it.

There was Jules, nose deep in scrunched up silk.

"What are you doing here?" I knew he was humiliated; his face was almost drowning it red.

He didn't answer back and my patience started to wear thin.

"Don't ever come in here again!"

In an instant, he scrambled out the room.

The rest of the night I had slept with an feeling of uneasiness weighing down on me.


End file.
